And That, As They Say, Is That

After almost 5 years and 1,112 posts, I've decided to put The BDR on indefinite hiatus.

It's been a great ride. I've enjoyed almost every minute of it. But the joy of discovering and sharing has, over the past few months, become the tedium of finding and posting. So it's time to stop. I might resurrect The BDR if it feels right, or I might blog about something else. It's too early to tell.

2009 was a wonderful year, and I can't thank you enough for showing up: a third of a million visits from 190 countries yielded just shy of 640,000 page views. 3 of those visits came from Nuuk, Greenland. Thank you, Nuuk :-)

Follow me on Twitter (@theBDR) for book-related (and other) stuff, and satisfy your book design jones over at The Casual Optimist, Faceout Books, and The Book Cover Archive. Those guys are the best.

Again, my heartfelt thanks for 5 fun years. Talk to you soon.

Peeing Hamsters

(I'm on vacation this week, so posting will be limited. But I thought it might be fun to re-publish a favorite post and ask again: what book do you really hate?)

OK, enough of looking at book covers for a day or two. The Guardian's Stuart Evers has written a very, very funny article about "the good side of bad books." It's a hoot, and you should read it now.

But then you should come back here and tell us about the one (or two) novels that made you want to set yourself on fire, punch yourself in the face, or question why you learned to read in the first place.

I'll go first. After being hounded by my sci-fi-inclined friends for years, I read Robert Heinlein's Stranger In A Strange Land. When done, I immediately went out and bought two hamsters and a cage so that something could rip that book apart and pee on it. If there was an editor within 50 miles of that thing, I'll eat my shorts. I'll eat yours too.

I'm not anti-science fiction. I don't read a whole bunch of it, but I don't have a problem with it per se. J.G. Ballard holds a special place on my bookshelves. But this book? Ugh. I wish I remembered more about why I hated it so deeply, but I do trust my memory of discomfort and loathing.

OK. I'm done. Your turn.